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by lyricwritesprose



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 12:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11402739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricwritesprose/pseuds/lyricwritesprose
Summary: A companion's best friend. Based on an offhand remark by the eleventh Doctor.





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**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed (again). Note that the story does contain some references to bad things happening to animals, but the fic itself is straight-up fluffy wish-fulfillment fix-fic for such things.

_"Doggie!"_

"Olivia, love, we don't play with strange doggies unless Mummy says they're friendly, remember? Here, let's see . . ." Jo crouched down—an operation which was becoming increasingly difficult with a third child on the way—and wiggled her hand invitingly.

The doggie in question certainly _seemed_ friendly. She was small and vaguely terrier-shaped, with ears that flopped over endearingly at the tips. She made a worried, high-pitched noise and crept towards Jo, ears at half-mast.

"It's all right. It's all right, I won't hurt you." Jo let the dog smell her hand, and then scratched her between the ears.

The dog wagged. Not wagged her tail, but _wagged,_ a full-body dance of ecstasy. She had, Jo realized, been waiting to see if Jo would accept her or strike her. She was generally healthy, but on closer examination, there were some odd marks on her. Scars. As if she'd been restrained and tried to struggle free.

"Stinky doggie kisses!" Olivia proclaimed, and giggled.

They certainly were, and Jo didn't mind a bit. The nerve of some people, and the way they treated animals—Jo had half a mind to track them down and tell them—

The dog was wearing a collar. It didn't have a tag. It did have a piece of paper pinned to it. "Let's have a look at this, sweetie," Jo told the dog, and extracted the paper—with some difficulty, given the dog's wild wiggling. The paper was cream-colored and quite heavy.

She unfolded it, and read.

_My dearest Jo,_

_This is Laika. I wish I could take credit for her rescue, but a nomadic race called the Tevolexi got to it before me. Your space programs' various experimental monkeys are now being worshipped as gods, which, since the Tevolexi expect a certain amount of childish temper from their deities, suits them to the bone. Laika, however, would prefer a home._

_Yours always,  
The Doctor_

Jo looked up quickly and scanned the park for a long, velvet-clad figure. There wasn't one.

She remembered. She remembered the first time she'd read about Laika and all the other poor creatures. She'd talked to the Doctor about it, because the Doctor—arrogant, brusque, and just plain _difficult_ as he could be—the Doctor would never see anything childish in crying for an animal she'd never met. _Compassion is never silly, Jo,_ he'd said at the time. _And never wasted._

Evidently, he remembered too.

"Wazzit say, mummy?" Olivia leaned in to look at the note, fending off doggie kisses with one hand.

"It says," Jo told her, "we have a new dog. Come on, sweetheart, let's introduce you to the rest of the family. I wonder how you say _good girl_ in Russian?"


End file.
